Coincidences
by Victoria Quynn
Summary: Seeming coincidences of a day so long ago ...


Coincidences

Jed "Kid" Curry lounged in the warm water. He reflected on the day and how they wound up here.

Arriving in town, they stopped at the local hotel and requested a room with a view and a bathtub, standard issue for them. However, not finding one available when they arrived, they decided to move on to the boardinghouse down the street. Coincidently, the clerk informed them, a room opened up just as they were leaving due to a last-minute cancellation; or so they were told.

"Let's face it, Kid, they just don't like the way we look. Don't they understand we know we're filthy and that's what the tub's for?"

"Well, they did let us know where the bath house was." Curry's tone turned sarcastic. "That was nice and neighborly of them."

Hannibal Heyes rolled his eyes. "Yeah, real neighborly. Our money's not good unless we take a dark garret in the attic, or until we're ready to walk out the door. And then a 'last-minute' cancellation – ha! But at least we can keep an eye on the sheriff's office."

Curry smiled. "Or just a coincidence?" He considered something his partner said. "Heyes, what's a garret?"

"Where poets write. And us geniuses think."

"Doesn't sound like a good deal. How can ya write, read, or even think in a place that's so dark?"

A suddenly wistful Heyes responded, "Something about the mood, Kid. Something about the mood."

It was Curry's turn to roll his eyes.

And so, garrets or sheriff's offices aside, they had their room with a view, and a bathtub.

A flip of a coin – Curry's this time – had him going first. They ordered a bath drawn while they ate dinner – heartily, we might add, as the trail had our two goodhearted bad men longing for the comforts of civilization – and Kid wasted no time in shucking his trail clothes for the soothing effects of bath water.

Heyes rummaged in his saddle bags for the good whiskey he had picked up at their last stop a week before and poured two good-sized shots. Handing one to Curry, he sat and sipped, enjoying the pleasant burn snake down his throat. "This is the life, Kid. A soft bed, warm bath, and good whiskey. Wherever we've been and whatever we've done, it's always the same things that bring the most pleasure, don't'cha think?"

"Ya mean creature comforts, Heyes?"

"Yup. We've had women, money, and other stuff, but it doesn't get much better than this." He finished his whiskey and set his glass on the floor beside the chair. Putting his head back, he closed his eyes.

The silence caused Curry to glance at his partner. The whiskey passed its effects on him, too, and his lids soon drooped.

~~00oo00~~

Hoorahing gunshots outside the hotel soon had the main street erupting in a cacophony of gunfire and smoke. A few small fireworks exploded, crescendoing in a finale sending sparks through the open window of the ex-outlaws' room, lighting the darkness and waking both and sending Heyes to the floor to take cover. The sleepily confused dark-haired ex-outlaw fumbled about for his sidearm, grasping only a handful of cloth from the floor.

He heard a voice – Kid's – telling him to try to light the lamp. His eyes adjusting to the dark, he followed a sliver of light from the crack at the bottom of the threshold from the oil sconces in the hallway, tracking it with his eyes to the carved feet of the dresser. Rising, he felt around and found the lamp, removed the globe, put something in his hand in his pocket, located the matchbox, and lit the lamp. Replacing the globe, he adjusted the flame to its lowest possible setting so only a soft glow illuminated the room. Keeping to one side of the window, he peered out through the sheer curtain panels, and saw throngs of cowhands celebrating. They were quieter than he would have expected a bunch of men to be, but it was the calm after the storm, instead of before.

Kid Curry kept his voice low. "All clear?"

"All clear," Heyes said in relief. He did not actually let out a breath until he pulled the shade all the way down.

The partners regarded each other in the dim shadows. This town where they had stopped to rest from a never-ending trail was in fact a small railhead from which stock from local ranches started their journeys to slaughter. The sudden din splitting the stillness had rattled them, evoking a feeling of a day and time so long ago …

"What's the name of this town again, Heyes?"

"Lawrence." A chill went up Heyes' spine as he said it.

They looked at each other. This mutual feeling did not happen often, but it did from time to time. Heyes turned up the lamp, eager to banish the memories.

"Heyes, throw me a towel. It's your turn."

The ex-outlaw leader did as requested, and started unbuttoning his shirt. As he tossed it on the bed, a slip of cloth dropped from his pocket.

Curry saw it. "What's that?"

Heyes shrugged as he continued to undress. "Something I picked up from the floor, I guess."

Dry now, Curry shucked the towel, grabbing and putting on his long johns, all the while mesmerized by the strip of fabric.

Heyes stepped in the bath. The water had cooled. "Kid, can you bring over those two pitchers of hot water they left?"

"Sure." With one eye not leaving the fabric scrap, Curry poured the pitchers' contents into the tub. He set the vessels aside and examined the scrap. It was a dirty bit of blue and yellow calico, no more than a couple inches wide and thrice as long. He studied it for a long while, until interrupted by Heyes' asking for his book. He found it in his partner's saddlebags – _David Copperfield_ – the very story his own father was reading at the time … He dimmed the lamp before handing the book to Heyes.

"What'd you do that for, Kid. I wanted to read."

"You can't say ya didn't feel it, Heyes."

"Feel what?"

"Before. You felt it, too. I know you did." Curry's voice grew almost ethereal in the shadows. "I wanna remember for a minute."

"Kid, stop it. I'm getting a chill."

"It's not the water, Heyes. I just put warm water in. It's the feelin'."

"You and your feelings. Turn up the light. You're giving me the creeps."

"Don't ya see, Heyes. Lawrence, the noise, and my pa was readin' this same book as you are … Somethin's going on."

"Just coincidences, Kid."

"No, Heyes, hear me out." Kid turned up the lamp a little, but not enough to read by. He fingered the scrap of fabric. "This cloth is the same as my ma's favorite bonnet. It's like this place is …"

"Don't say it, Kid. I'm gonna tell myself the chill up my spine is the water being cold, and you didn't say anything before about me reading this book. Some lady must've ripped her dress here in this room and forgot about the torn piece, so it got left behind. And as for this place being Lawrence … well, it's just another coincidence."

"You're just as spooked as I am, Heyes, but tryin' to explain it away."

"It's the whiskey. We had too much of the good stuff."

"That doesn't explain everything." Curry imparted a sad smile. "Let's just figure that they're watchin' out for us and lettin' us know we're not alone." He held up the scrap before depositing it in his boot for safekeeping. "We don't remember as much as we should, so I'm gonna carry this with me so I don't forget so much."

The silver tongue quieted for several moments, and Kid could tell Heyes was deep in thought. "Kid, turn up the lamp, will ya?"

The mood broken, Curry turned up the flame and watched Heyes leaf through the book. "Here it is. I read this part when I was waiting for you to come back from the livery." Heyes read, "It was a long and gloomy night that gathered on me, haunted by the ghosts of many hopes, of many dear remembrances, many errors, many unavailing sorrows and regrets."

They looked at each other and took it in. Heyes shivered, then dipped his hand into the bathwater. "It's warm."


End file.
